


In a dingy little gin joint (you brighten up the room)

by MatildaSwan



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dimity/Marigold on the peripheries, F/F, First Meetings, Forgotten Meetings, The teacher gang all appear, barmaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 07:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14889971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: Hecate would never have even considered flirting with a woman while she was at work, no matter how striking the blonde behind the bar.Lucky for her, the barmaid has other ideas.A saga in three parts





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> @alittlelesspain asked for bar au+fake dating. Thanks for the prompt, hope you enjoy :D

Hecate hates staff nights. She knows she’s being a bad sport, but she can’t help it—the noise, the smell, the  _people._ Not her colleagues, those she likes well enough—it’s why she endures these nights as best she can; she really does like seeing them outside of work—but rather everyone else that frequents whatever pub they inevitably end up at.

It’s always Dimity’s idea, along with Ada’s agreement, that leads them from the school grounds and back into town. And they always stay at least a few hours; any less and the trek wouldn’t be worth it. 

And while Hecate makes no secret about her enjoyment of the odd sherry, or the occasional gin and tonic, she’s never been one for a rowdy night of drinking (well, maybe once every few years, not that she’d ever tell anyone). And she’s certainly never aimed for a lock-in, as Davina occasionally tries her luck.

But even so, she follows them all willingly enough; joining in the conversation when she likes, always happy to shout her round when called up.

Besides, it’s nice to put her gloomy aura to good use: it’s the best way she knows how to keep the hoi polloi from bothering her.

It’s usually foolproof, never failed her, not before tonight. Because there’s a man here who just won’t leave her alone.

He slide up beside her at the bar while she was waiting for drinks, trying to catch the eye of the pretty blonde barmaid. Asked her what she was drinking.

She’s answered without thinking. Hadn’t realised the implication. Had to stumble her way through an explication that she was more than capable of buying her own drinks, the offer was unnecessary.

He’d pouted and preened and Hecate had just stared at him, confused, about why this man was still talking to her.

She almost shouts for joy when the barmaid finally turned her way.

‘Hey, love. Sorry about the wait,’ she says, voice light and familiar. As if they know each other. Hecate frowns. ‘Having a good night?’

She waits, as if she actually cares what Hecate has to say. 

Hecate purses her lips, answers as diplomatically as she can. ‘Mostly.’ She side eyes the man still standing next to her, right by her elbow—definitely too close, what with all the space beside his other elbow, empty of patrons for at least a foot.

The woman seems to know what she means. Smiles at Hecate, knowing and mischievous. ‘Well, I’ve only got another hour on the clock, then we can go home. Think you can keep yourself occupied till then, darling?’

She winks, quickly, pushing her fringe behind her ear; hides her face to be see by no one by Hecate.

Hecate is too shocked to do anything but nod, tongue-tied and blinking.

But the man is still on her elbow, frowning now, eyes darting between her and the barmaid. Like he’s trying,  _failing_ , to solve a puzzle.

‘Of course I can,’ Hecate starts, as convincing as she can manage. ‘Anything for you, dear.’

The woman  _beams,_ like she’s actually pleased to hear it. Blows her a kiss through the air.

Hecate blushed, ducks her head, nibbles on a bottom lip. There’s a shuffle on her right. She looks back to find a tall glass of gin waiting for her, bottle of tonic on the side, and not a man in sight.

Hecate heaves a sigh of relief, shoulders dropping tension she didn’t know she was carrying, and almost slumps against the bar.

‘Thank you,’ Hecate breathes, barely louder than the music and chatter filling the room. ‘He–I…Thank you.’

The barmaid grins, pretty pink mouth almost dimpled at the edges. Winks again. ‘Any time.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @amillionmillionvoices asked for a forgotten first meeting, so of course I answered with angst. Sorry bb!

She isn’t there, when Hecate next returns to the bar. It’s been just over an hour—she hadn’t realised the time—and she must have gone home.

It hurts more than it should do, not to get the chance to say goodbye.

Not that this woman means anything to Hecate, not really: she’s just a knight in shining armour who swooped in and wiggled Hecate out of an annoying situation, for nothing more than a mumbled ‘thank you’— expected nothing in return.

Hecate wishes she could have said goodbye.

*

They go back, their next staff outing. Hecate’s suggestion, to literally everyone’s surprise.

‘Had a good night last time, ay, HB,’ Dimity teases her, eyes sparkling as she smirks.

Hecate stares her down. ‘It was marginally more enjoyable than any of your other suggestions,’ is all the comment she’ll give. 

If she gets distracted by the thought of a pretty blonde barmaid with shining pink lips, that’s no one’s business but hers.

Besides, she really does just want to thank her, properly, and apologise for not doing so last time. The way she would have done, if she’d had the chance to say goodbye.

And so they go, on an otherwise sleepy Sunday night, with a bank holiday waiting for them in the morning. For dinner, then drinks.

But she’s not there.

All but one body behind the bar is a bloke. And the brunette with bright green eyes and a smile that could melt toffee just isn’t the same. 

Besides, she seems more interested in Dimity than serving anyone else anyway. Hecate has to admit, being a former football star has some pretty sweet perks, from what she can gather.

So Hecate finds them all a secluded booth, furthest away from the jukebox, and waits for Dimity to bring them drinks. She converses with Ada, as they wait, while Davina leads a chorus of shanties with a group of sailors over in the corner.

It’s a full hour before Dimity comes back, a smear of lipstick on her neck.

‘She called someone in to cover the rest of her shift,’ Dimity says, boasting just a little. ‘I’ll beg off when she gets back.’

Ada smirks, purses her lips and stares at Dimity over her glasses. Hecate’s eyes stayed glued to the bar, hoping for a head of golden curls to appear and brighten the place up.

Dimity leaves half an hour later, elbow in arm with the pretty brunette, leaving nothing but blokes behind the bar.

Hecate manages another half hour, biting back her disappointment, before she insists that they save the crowd from Davina’s crooning, and drag the old woman home.

*

It’s Ada’s suggestion, the next time.

A few staff nights have passed since they were last here. And in that time Hecate has, sensibly, given up hoping. Stopped caring. Ceased thinking about the blonde barmaid and her pretty smile.

Of course she has, why would she still matter, after all this time.

But they go out for dinner, a welcome bash for the newest of their ranks: Marigold Mould, who put herself forward to expand the art department.

‘It’s time to diversify the focus of elite education,’ she’d argued in her letter to the headmistress. ‘The humanities requires as much skill and training as hard sciences, and it’s past time the girls got a leg up for those possibilities.’

Ada had been convinced, while Hecate had been hard pressed to find a solid argument against it, other than ‘I don’t like it, not one little bit.’

So she’d bitten her tongue and they’d hired Marigold and thrown a bash in her honour, despite Hecate’s misgivings.

She thinks that’s why Ada suggests it—had noticed Hecate’s failed attempts not to pout during dinner, and offered out an olive branch. And, again, Hecate had been hard pressed to find an argument against it, when everyone else happily agreed before she got a word in edgeways.

And so they stumble along, Marigold and Dimity at the front—standing rather more closely than necessary, if Hecate were to judge—while Ada and Hecate bring up the rear, the rest of the staff jumbled in the middle.

Not that Hecate is dragging her heels, of course not. That would imply she cares about who is, or isn’t, going to be at the bar when they arrive. Which she doesn’t. Not one little bit.

Except she does.

Because they walk into the warmth of the pub, to the faint smell of stale beer and salty crisps, to find a head of gleaming golden hair smiling at them from behind the bar. 

Hecate smiles back.

She doesn’t realise. Not as they shuffle off their coats and find a table. Not as she offers to shout the first round. Not as she waits at the bar after buffeting her way through the larger then normal crowd; nor as she catches the blonde’s eyes and waits to order.

It’s then, when her cheeks start to ache, that she realises she hasn’t stopped grinning since she walked inside.

Her cheeks burn, blushing bright, as the barmaid comes over to take her order.

‘What can I get you?’ she asks, polite and professional. Nothing at all like last time. 

It shouldn’t hurt, but it does.

Hecate freezes, blinking quickly as her smile fades. She opens her mouth to order, but someone jostles her into the bar, banging her elbow on the wood.

She hisses and scowls, glares at the perpetrator, then turns back towards the bar. The blonde is looking at her with something close to pity, and Hecate hates it.

She spits out their order, resisting the urge to stamp on the little toe of the man now leaning beside her in retribution. Mumbles a muffled ‘thank you’ when she gets her change, and takes the tray back to the table.

She’s in a foul mood for the rest of the night.

Ada notices. Throws her a few quizzical glances, prodding Hecate speak up if she wishes.

She stays silent.

But she must have been seething too—she didn’t mean to, she’s usually very good at keeping her feelings to herself—because Dimity whoots and hollers from the other side of the table.

‘What’s got you so glum, sugarplum?’ she asks, a touch curious but mostly teasing.

Hecate keeps her face blank, does her best to stare her down. ‘Nothing,’ she says, sipping at her drink. ‘Why ever would you ask.’

They’ve been here before, when Dimity asks personal questions she doesn’t really care to hear answered—like ‘how are you today?’ and ‘what have you been up to?’ and ‘are you enjoying the weather?’—and Hecate had replied with ‘none of your business.’

So Dimity shrugs, head tilted to the side and top lip curled in dismissal, and goes back to drinking her beer.

But Ada speak up, care and concern evident. ‘Perhaps it’s the noise. It might be quieter outside?’

‘Quite right,’ Hecate says, setting her drink down on the table.

She excuses herself before Ada can offer to join.

*

There’s a little alleyway, beside the bar. It’s where Hecate hides, while she decides whether she wants to go back inside.

Ada was right, it is quieter: all the inside sounds are muffled, not even the thump of a base beat. Quiet enough to get her thoughts back in order.

She really should go in. Say goodbye, before she leaves, at the very least. She will, in a minute, she just needs another minute.

She pulls her coat tight around her shoulders as two becomes three and then five.

She should just go home.

She’s about to hail a cab to take her up the mountain, back to the safety of the school where she boards, when the side door opens and out tumbles a head of blonde hair.

Hecate stares, unmoving in the shadows.

The barmaid yells when she sees her.

‘Oh  _jesus,’_ she says, hand on her heart and smiling at her own folly. ‘I thought you were a gargoyle.’

Hecate sniffs. ‘Thank you.’

‘No, I didn’t mean it like that—you just, seemed like a statue, is all.’ She throws Hecate a lopsided grin. ‘I wasn’t saying you were ugly, I promise.’ She tucks her fringe behind her ear. Looks up through lowered lashes, taking in Hecate’s face, now they’re both standing in the streetlight. ‘Quite the opposite, in fact.’

Hecate sniffs again, jams her hands on her pockets. ‘Do you always flirt with patrons like this, or is it just me?’

She asks out of anger, irritable and tense, only to realise: she really does want to know, is it just her?

The woman grins. ‘Can’t blame a girl for trying,’ she jests.

Hecate scowls. ‘I can when it’s only out of pity.’

‘What?’

‘I’m not pathetic,’ Hecate says, brow furrowing further. ‘Just because you were there to swoop in and,  _rescued_ me from some stupid, irritating man one evening doesn’t make me pitiful. I’d have been fine on my own, I’ll have you know.’

Hecate glares, while the woman stares.

The alleyway feels very cold.

‘I…I’m sorry,’ she says, like she means it. ‘But I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

Hecate blinks. Rapid. Bile rises in her throat. ‘What?’

‘I’m sorry but, I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.’ She squints, looks away, like she’s trying to remember. Looks back, still frowning. ‘Have we meet before?’

Hecate wishes the ground would swallow her hole.

‘Clearly not,’ she finally spits out. ‘My apologies, I must have you mixed up with someone else.’

‘Oh, umm, that’s okay,’ the barmaid says, eyeing the side door back into the bar. ‘I’ve got to get back to work, but…’ she trails off, chewing on her top lip. Chewing on her words. ‘It wasn’t a pity flirt,’ she finally says. Adds, ‘Before, I mean–you’re anything but ugly. And in case we meet again, I’m Pippa.’ 

She steps forward, holding out her hand.

‘I don’t care,’ Hecate snaps, spinning on her heels and heading home, wishing the ground will cave in somewhere along the way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so the saga ends, now I've finally got around to crossposting this over from tumblr. Thank you all for the kinds words, and the ones to come :3

She doesn’t return to the bar. She can’t, not with how she acted—childish and curt and frankly uncivil. How could she ever set foot in there again, with the threat of seeing her — _Pippa_ — looming over her head.

No, she does not go back.

Not when the rest of staff suggest it, a fortnight later. When she begs off home, leaves them to enjoy the rest of the evening, returning to the school knowing she’d never have left it at all, if she’d know before—where they were going to end up.

She know she can’t ever go back.

But, in the end, she doesn’t need to.

Because Pippa comes to her, stuffed into the back of the cab with Dimity and Marigold and Ada, all arms and elbows and high spirits returning home after an early night out.

She hears them rumble up the driveway, wonders if any of them will call for cab fare—she’s usually the responsible one that still has cash in her wallet at the end of the night. But they called it a night so early, tonight, it seems unlikely.

She goes back to reading her book as the car stops. 

Feet crunch on gravel. Doors slam and laugher echoes over the front lawn.

Then tiny pebbles start tinging at her window.

‘Hecate!  _Hecate_ , wake up!’ Dimity’s voice echoes up from the garden.

She sighs, puts her book to one side, and sticks her head out the window to tell Dimity where to shove it.

‘It’s late,’ she points out, though it’s barely nine on a Friday night. ‘This isn’t the time for one of your pranks.’

‘It’s not a prank!’ Dimity assures her. ‘There’s someone here to see you.’

‘Oh, honestly!’ She’s surprised Ada hasn’t already reprimand the most unruly member of staff, but she’s no where to be seen.

Till Hecate looks towards the driveway and sees her silhouette by the taxi. She’s with two other women, as Hecate would expect. Only…

One of them isn’t Davina.

‘Come on, the cab won’t wait all night!’ Dimity calls up, snapping Hecate out of her confusion. ‘Get your gown on and get your arse down here, pronto!’

Hecate flips two fingers at Dimity and pulls her head back inside. Races towards the front door, pulling her dressing gown over her shoulders. It’s only just fastened as she passes three of her colleagues in the front corridor.

‘That  _was_  quick,’ Dimity teases, smirking as she struts past. Hecate flips another bird at her back as she takes a left when she ought to go right. It would be a wrong turn, if not for Marigold following along behind.

She winks at Hecate, before the couple disappear out of sight.

‘Like rabbits, all of you,’ Ada huffs good naturedly. ‘First Davina, now these two. Do remember to lock up when you’re done, won’t you, Hecate.’

‘Hmm, what?’ Hecate asks, coming back to the present, turning towards her boss, now standing beside her.

Ada jerks her head towards the front doors, to the woman waiting by the cab just outside. ‘She was rather eager to speak to you, and we all thought: what better time than the present.’ Ada’s smirk is too smug by half, and Hecate glares as she takes the offered keys. ‘I’ll give you two some privacy,’ Ada adds, and scurries away from Hecate’s soft scowl.

Leaving Hecate alone with a handful of keys and a stranger, standing on their front door.

She pushes it open and walks into the night.

‘Oh, hello,’ Pippa says, a little unsure, like she’s embarrassed. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d come down.’

She meets Hecate half way. ‘Dimity was rather insistent.’

Pippa snorts. ‘I’m not surprised.’

Hecate frowns, and Pippa smiles back.

‘The whole thing was her idea,’ she explains. ‘Believe me, I’m not in the habit of doorstepping strangers I meet at work, no matter how beautiful they may be.’

Hecate blinks.

‘Oh, I didn’t mean—well of course you  _are,_ but I didn’t—’ Pippa cuts herself off, closing her eyes and exhaling heavily. ‘I wanted to talk to you. To apologise, actually. For the last time we spoke.’

She must be hearing things. ‘ _You_ want to apologise?’  

Pippa nods. ‘I mean, you were also frightfully rude.’ Hecate hangs her head a little, still ashamed. ‘But it wasn’t very polite of me, either.’ She looks Hecate dead in the eye. ‘And I lied, a little. It took me a while, to place your face, but I do remember you.’

Hecate stares, still tongue-tied.

‘And, ah, I wanted to tell you that. And I recognised your friends at the pub, and thought you might be with them. Only Ada said you were in hiding?’

Hecate splutters, indignantly.  

‘I just, didn’t want you to feel like you wouldn’t be welcome, like you’d have to avoid the place instead of spending time with your friends.’ She smiles, huffing slightly. ‘I told them to pass along a message, but they rather gave the impression you might want to hear it in person.’ She beams at Hecate, embarrassed and bright. ‘So, here I am.’

Hecate blinks, struggling to process the evening—the lingering parts of the previous ones, too. Finally boils everything she wants to say down to a single gesture.

She offers out her hand.

‘Hello Pippa,’ she says, smiling softly. ‘I’m Hecate.’

Pippa’s eyes sparkling in the moonlight, the soft skin of her palm against Hecate’s. ‘It’s good to finally meet you. Properly, that is.’

They shake hand a little too long, and the apples of Pippa’s cheeks bloom rose pink.

‘Anyway, I’d best be off,’ she says, a little awkwardly, tugging her hand away to gesture at the still waiting cab. 

‘Oh, of course,’ Hecate says, a little dejected. She hadn’t quite worked up the courage to invite her in for a drink. ‘It’s a long ride back into town.’

Pippa chuckles. ‘Good thing I live on the outskirts then, isn’t it? I’m barely five minutes up the road, it’s why Ada suggested sharing a cab in the first place.’

‘Really?’

Pippa nods. Then frowns. ‘Strange, how we hadn’t met before now. Well,  _then_ , I—oh, you know what I mean,’ Pippa huffs, laughing gently, and Hecate smiles.

‘It is,’ she agrees, still too tongue tied to manage much more, and the conversation petering out.

Pippa takes her cue, takes a step towards the cab, the pauses. Looks back and Hecate, and darts forward, just two steps, and presses a kiss to her cheek.

Hecate hand is on her elbow when Pippa draws away, stepping back to put some distance between them.

The space just fills with promise, when Pippa speaks:

‘And, ah, you know when—when I said you could take me home, the first time we meet?’ Pippa prompts, eyes shining with dare and promise.

Hecate blushes. ‘Yes, I remember.’

Pippa smiles. ‘It wasn’t an offer then, but, it could be one now. If you were interested?’ Pippa says, half hopeful but softly timid, waiting for rejection.

It never comes.

Instead, Hecate swallows the butterflies in her stomach, untangles her tied tongue, and makes her a promise:

‘The next time we meet.’


End file.
